Godalmighty, I detest writing research papers.
I fail to understand what is so frikking important about
copying someone else's research (multiplied by about fifteen
"someones") and spitting it back on paper.
So I guess this makes it all math's fault. No, really.
Stay with me here. The paper has
to be thirty pages long, has to have multiple sources, has to have two spaces
between each line of typing, has to be delivered via email by 9:00 in the
morning on 5/6 … sounds like there's a number-conspiracy going on.
Here's a number for the school: Zero.
Zero, zero,
zero. Nada. None.
No more.
That's the number of research papers I intend to write over
the next year as I finish up my degree. There's
a reason I'm on the writing track and not the literary one -- So I never have
to write another research paper as long as I live.
But at least I had some fun with this one. There are humorous quotes and anecdotes mixed
in with the serious stuff just to prove that I'm still in control of this
paper, regardless of what anyone else says when I turn it in. And the paper contains the humorous remains
of my grade, which (with luck) is still a number.
If you'll excuse me now, it is really late at night while I
am typing this entry, and the time is also a number.
It's all math's fault.
Blame math. Math can take it --
it has infinity excuses.
